


Midnight Run AU

by SelfishPrick



Category: Midnight Run (1988), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Criminal Steve, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Midnight Run AU, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Swearing, basically everyone from the show will get a role in this, bounty hunter Billy, it follows the movie really closely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-07-08 00:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19860238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfishPrick/pseuds/SelfishPrick
Summary: When Lonnie Byers hires the hard-bitten bounty hunter Billy Hargrove to locate a mob accountant named "The King" and bring him to L.A., Lonnie tells Billy that the job will be simple - a "midnight run." But when Billy finds The King, the FBI and the mob are anxious to get their hands on him. In a cross-country chase, Billy must evade the authorities, hide from the mob and prevent The King's erratic personality from driving him mad.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So full disclosure, this AU follows the story from the movie pretty closely. Some things may not make sense (logically or technologically) but lets just pretend this is all movie magic!
> 
> Also i need to thank women-seem-wicked and benalras for helping me edit and rewrite the first 2 chapters and make them readable!

A man of average height and messy blond hair in a leather jacket was walking slowly in a dark rundown corridor of an apartment building. That man was a bounty hunter by the name of Billy Hargrove. He was climbing the stairs, the wood beneath his boots creaked at every step. It was one of those places where you'd only go if your other choice was to sleep in a dumpster. It almost looked as if he was coming back home after a night of drinking, however he was looking carefully at each closed door as he passed by. There was a cigarette hanging from his mouth while he prowled the hall like a hunter. He was searching for one door in particular and it didn’t take him long to find it. It was a mystery what he recognized about it, as it looked indistinguishable from any other on this floor. 

He stopped next to it and took the cigarette out of his mouth. He listened at the foot of the door like a hound, focused on detecting any noise that could come from inside. After a few seconds he was satisfied with what he heard - or rather _didn't_ hear - so he took out a small leather pouch out of his pocket. Opening it fast, Billy took out a small set of tools and used them to pick the lock -his fingers worked fast. This wasn’t his first time picking a lock. 

“This is too easy…” he muttered. He couldn't help grinning while he took a break from lockpicking to take another drag from his cigarette. He almost felt giddy at the thought of finishing the hunt this fast… but his fingers slipped when he went back to picking the lock. He dropped one of the small metal tools. He leaned down with a frown and growl to grab it-- a deafening shot from inside the room punched a gaping hole right above the doorknob! It missed his head by just an inch. “Shit!” He spat. Startled he tried to jump back, but instead he tripped and fell back instead, losing his cigarette in the process. He was back on his feet fast, taking out his revolver from the holster hanging on the back of his jeans. 

Billy lingered close to the ground before he carefully peeked through gaping hole above the doorknob. He saw a guy carrying a shotgun in hand, getting out through the window to the fire escape. 

“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere, Bouchet!” Billy screamed after his bounty right before kicking in the door – pistol first. He ran to the window and shot at the guy running down the fire escape, but he missed. He knew he wouldn't be able to catch him if he followed after him so he turned around and doubled back. He ran fast through the crappy apartment, back through the rundown corridor and down the staircase.

Bouchet finally reached the ground. He jumped down hard in a puddle, triumphant at the thought that he had lost the bounty hunter from sight. He didn’t allow himself to relax too much. Without a second of rest he started running as fast as he could through the dark alley. Just before he reached the corner of the building, and consequently the street, suddenly the bounty hunter appeared in his way. Bouchet stopped in his tracks, almost falling over. Without much thought, he aimed his weapon and shot. Billy jumped out of the way of the spray of lead, just in time. The shot obliterated a trash can, instead of his body. Bouchet turned around without waiting to see if he’d done any damage and started running in the opposite direction. Billy was still hiding behind the corner. He peeked carefully behind the trash cans before jumping back into the chase. 

A car from the other side of the alley approached fast facing Bouchet. The hunted quickly redirected his route around the car, but the driver’s door suddenly opened, smacking him right off his feet. The car stopped with a whistle of the tires and a foolish looking dude jumped out of the driver's seat. He wore dirty jeans and a plain shirt that had probably been white in another life. He was holding a giant gun flimsily like it was a heavy toy he wasn't quite sure how to use. He sprinted toward Bouchet who was still lying on the ground.

“Come on!” the man grabbed and lifted his pray fairly easily; then he pushed him against the metal fence that was blocking the other exit of the narrow alley. 

That's when Billy finally ‎caught up. 

“HEY!…” he shouted out of breath. He recognized the guy straight away. “Tommy? What are you doin’??” he asked absolutely bewildered, still panting heavily. 

“He's mine, Billy. Now get lost!”

“Fuck you _his yours_. He's MINE! Lonnie assigned this guy to me. What the hell are you doin’??”

“Well, then go straighten it out with Lonnie. I'll collect the money.” Tommy laughed, uninterested in the politics of it all.

“I almost got killed tryin' to get this guy. He shot at me...''

Tommy pointed the giant gun at him. Billy stopped mid-sentence and lifted his hands up, but not very high up. Like it wasn't worth lifting them all the way up. 

“Back off, goddammit! I said I'm takin' him, all right?”

“All right, Tommy,” he told him calmly. 

“This guy's worth $1,200!” Tommy screamed back.

“Okay, okay. What the hell are we fightin' for?'' Billy smiled and laughed a little, as if this whole thing was just silly at this point. ''We're friends…” he continued.

”Nothin' personal, Billy, but _fuck off_ , all right?” Tommy wasn't having it, but his guard was already a little down. 

“Take it easy… _Jesus._ ” Billy's hands were still up, but suddenly his expression changed. “Tommy, watch out!” he screamed and pointed at something behind Tommy. The trick worked like a charm, and Billy punched him straight in the face the second he turned to look. Tommy fell down like a bag of potatoes, letting go of Bouchet who he was still up against the fence. Billy took over his place without missing a beat, putting the handcuffs on. 

“What the fuck's goin' on? You guys ain't cops.”

“No, we're ballet dancers..." Billy retorted. "Didn't your mother ever teach you how to react to strangers? Not to shoot at them? Huh?” he grabbed him by the neck and pulled him away from the fence, shoving him inside Tommy's car. “Hey Tommy, thanks for the car. You sleep, and I'll bring it back a little later,” he said without being able to hold back a smile. He got into the driver's seat, closing the door with a bang. The tires whistled as he drove away.

\+ + +

Billy was dragging Bouchet by the arm through the police station’s impound parking lot; a bunch of papers in his other hand. He opened the door, which led into a stale-looking office space, lit by fluorescent lights. When he stepped inside he faced a long corridor with unknown end and a few police officers minding their business. One with a mustache was standing in front of a tiny cubicle right next to the door. Another was behind a glass barrier going over documents. 

“Got a delivery for you, Gooch,” Billy declared all business-like to the chubby cop with the mustache.

“Billy.” Gooch looked unimpressed, not even happy to see him. ''The soda machine's been out for a week and a half.” He told him expectantly as if Billy was the handy man and he was late to do his chores. That attitude obviously annoyed the bounty hunter but he made an effort to hide it. The cops had always looked down on bounty hunters. “Check that for me, would ya?” 

It was _very_ annoying.

Gooch took the papers off his hands and started looking through them, while Billy was still holding Bouchet’s arm firmly.

“What do we got here?'' Gooch looked over the documents fast. ''Alright… Did he give you any trouble?” He lifted his eyes only.

Billy looked over the guy who had almost blown his head off with a shotgun.

“Did you give me any trouble?” he asked him with an amused smile.

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Bouchet spat back.

“He didn't give me any trouble,” Billy answered, shaking his head with a smile. 

When Gooch was done looking through the papers he left them at the counter with the officer behind the glass barrier. He then took the apprehended criminal off Billy's hands.

“Fuck you, too, man!” Bouchet didn't miss to yell at the cop as well.

“Move!” the cop pushed him.

“ _I know my fuckin' rights!..._ ”

Billy turned to the glass barrier. The other officer was already processing his papers. He leaned on the counter before exhaling. In a very tired motion he buried his face in his hands. He was dying for some rest but instead he was doing this shit. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, trying to wipe away the sleep from his vision. By habit he got his cigarette box out of his pocket and he lit one while waiting. He took a few drags out of it before glancing at his wristwatch. The clock hands were not moving…

Just then the cop handed him back the papers. Billy bit down on his cigarette as he took the documents. He looked through them fast, finding the one he needed out of them. He looked at the sheet of paper for a second to be sure it was filled out alright and then headed for the door.

Outside, the morning was still early. He walked for a while, breathing in the chilly air. There was absolutely no one on the wide dirty street he had reached. Above him various neon signs were still lit and all of them stated the same thing - “ _Bail Bonds. 24/7_ ”. He looked at his wristwatch again, fiddled with it for a second, then brought it up to his ear. The hands sometimes jolted back to life but this was not one of those times. After a heavy sigh he left it alone and turned to a bright green door, leading into an office. Its waiting room was composed only of one sad little wooden bench and some magazines to the side of it. That little space was separated from the other part of the office with a tiny swinging wooden door. Behind that, there were at least four big desks buried under piles of papers and letters. On the first one, even the desk lamp was sitting on top of a pile of papers. Only one of those desks had an occupant. It was a man with his feet up, and he was talking on the phone.

 _“Byers's Bail Bonds. No, it's cash only. No checks, no cards. I'm sorry, ma'am. That's the policy. I wish I could help you out. Sorry.”_ It was incredible how he could talk without taking that cigarette out of his mouth.

Without saying anything Billy handed him the papers from the police station.

“Just dropped off Bouchet,” He said after the guy hung up the phone. “Is Lonnie in?”

The guy was looking through the papers.

“So you finally caught someone, Billy.” It wasn’t a question, and it sounded a bit condescending even if it was supposed to be a joke. Billy didn’t know anymore. Whatever it was he wasn’t in the mood for it. 

“ _Benny_ , is he in?” Billy repeated the question. With the night he’d had, he was already very tired so getting annoyed was a bit beyond him. He took a deep breath, trying to keep the sleep away from his face again, and while he was doing that he got himself another cigarette. It was his anti-sleep medicine.

“I think that's terrific,” Benny said, smiling. 

Billy wondered if had he read that last remark correctly. Were Benny’s words rude or had he just thought they were because he desperately needed some sleep?... He decided not to dwell on it.

“Billy! I’ve been tryin’ to reach you since last night.” Lonnie appeared as if from thin air. His hair was slicked back, showing off a receding hairline. He was dressed in a colorful Hawaiian shirt and big brown pants held up by suspenders in the same color. “What do you got for me?” he asked, stopping right in between Billy and Benny. 

“Been tryin' to reach me?” one of Billy’s eyebrows jumped up. He was absolutely sure the guy was talking through his ass, because he had checked his messages and there were none from him. However he decided to just get down to business. “It's Bouchet.” he pointed at the papers in the Benny’s hands.

“Ooh, Bouchet. Good score, Billy! $900, right?” Lonnie exclaimed cheerfully.

“No, it's $1,200,” Billy corrected him calmly.

“No, $900,” Lonnie insisted, just as calmly.

“That's-- that's $1,200. _Come on_ ,” Billy sighed, rubbing one of his eyes. He was too tired to have this argument.

“No. Yeah, you're right,” Lonnie backed down finally, still keeping that smile as if he just remembered the sum correctly. He grunted while he walked to the desk next to Benny’s and started to rummage through the drawers. He finally found what he was looking for. It was a white bottle. “My stomach's killin' me,” Lonnie explained taking a big gulp from the white bottle, probably stomach medicine. “I'm goin' over to Chin Loo's for breakfast. I want to talk to you,” he told Billy while taking another big sip.

“About what?” Billy was absolutely sure that he didn’t want to talk to Lonnie. It never led to anything good.

“I'll tell you there.” Lonnie closed the white bottle and just threw it somewhere in the pile of papers. He looked as if he was in a hurry. As always.

“Could I have my money first?” Billy asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be. One of his hands was on his hips, the other was holding his cigarette.

Lonnie looked at him almost bewildered. 

“Of course… What, do you think I'm gonna try and stiff you?” he laughed as he was putting his jacket on.

“You?” Billy exclaimed with unnaturally high voice. “Never!” He shook his head laughing. He turned to Benny. “He would never try and stiff me.” 

Benny was just smiling. He didn’t want to lose his job so he didn't say anything.

“Do I detect some kind of sarcasm here?” Lonnie sounded offended. He even stopped putting on his jacket halfway to express how hurt he was feeling.

“Never,” Billy answered with the same smile.

“Where have I inherited this reputation?” Lonnie insisted. “I have never done business with anybody, and Benny is my witness...” he pointed very energetically toward Benny. Benny on the other hand just looked at him, saying nothing. “...that I have ever, ever, ever...” he had no idea how to continue, but his big hand gestures were supposed to distract from that. “Has that phone ever rang... Has that phone ever rang with a complaint about me?” he added finally. Benny and Billy shared an amused look. “Never, never,” Lonnie answered his own question, then without losing any more time he patted Billy on the arm. “So let's go. I'll buy you some breakfast.”

“I don't eat breakfast,” Billy replied dryly.

“Well then, have an early lunch.” Lonnie wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Let's go.”

Both of them were sitting at the corner of the bar at Chin Loo's dinner. Neither of them had ordered more than a cup of black coffee.

Lonnie leaned in close to Billy who was just getting a sip of his drink.

“You ever hear of a guy named Steve Harrington?”

“The King. Yeah, I know who he is.” Billy nodded.

“What do you know?” he pushed.

“He's that accountant that embezzled a couple of million from some Vegas wise guy and he gave it to charity,” Billy recited uninterested. 

“That's very good. Only thing is, that it wasn't a couple of million. It was $15 million. And it wasn't some Vegas wise guy. It was Martin Brenner,” Lonny explained carefully.

“I know, I know. I can read the papers.” Billy rolled his eyes taking another sip of his coffee.

“Look, I don't want to bring up the past, but...” Lonnie started carefully, but not very. He gave Billy a knowing look. “...isn't Brenner the guy that ran you out of Chicago when he was runnin' things back there?”

“He didn't run me out,” Billy said matter of fact.

“Yeah, right right right. You gave up bein' a cop to do this shit?” 

Billy had already been in a bad mood and this conversation was not helping. It was playing on his nerves, and it was taking all he had to try and hide it.

“Alright, what's the point?”

“The point, Billy: I bailed out the accountant. I didn't know who he was at the time. I mean, had I known, there’s no way I would've put up the bond. I mean it's only a matter of time before Brenner vanishes this guy from the planet and I'm out $450,000.”

“You're out $450,000 on this guy?” Billy finally looked interested.

“No.”

“No?”

“No! Because I got you, and you're the best, and you're gonna find him and bring him back,” Lonnie stated, smiling ear to ear.

“Yeah, right.” Billy replied sarcastically. “How do you even know this guy is still alive?”

“Because this guy is crazy. He sends postcards to Brenner. He's tellin' him what a great time he's havin' with his money!” Lonnie had started with the big hand gestures again, but his smile was gone.

Billy was thinking.

“How much time you got left?”

“Friday, midnight, I default. I eat the $450,000.” Lonnie took a deep breath and exhaled it desperately with a hand on his forehead.

“This Friday?” 

Lonnie nodded.

“That's five days!” Billy burst out. “Forget it. _You go find him_. Give me my money.”

“Billy, alright, look. Listen to me.” Lonnie folded right away. It was obvious he was very desperate. “I'll give you 40-- I'll give you 50 grand.”

“$50,000?!” Billy was sure this was some kind of joke. “I gotta chase you down for $1,200. Forget about it.” He shook his head. He wasn’t angry about it, just not falling for it. 

“No, no, no, no, Billy, please,” Lonnie started to beg. Billy was surprised he didn’t fall to his knees.

“Billy-billy –nothing.” He made fun of him. “Forget about it. What else you got?”

“I ain't got nothin', this is it! If you don't find this guy, I'm out of business!”

Billy looked away, somewhere far away. Thinking. “Lonnie... I'll do it for $100,000.”

“$100,000? Are you out of your mind?! This is an easy gig. It's a midnight run for chrissakes.” He got the words out so fast he forgot to breathe. He couldn’t believe his ears. 

“Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm tired of gettin' shot at. I'm tired of this miserable fuckin' business, and every lowlife that I run into. If you're gonna pay me, you gotta pay me what's right. You want me for this job, give me what's right.” 

“First of all, the guy is an accountant.” Lonnie was shaking his head still shocked at the price. “He's not gonna shoot you. All you have to do is find him. You put him in a bag, hit him with a rubber hose, bring him home...”

“That's easy for you to say. Listen to me, it's $100,000, no more, no less, and I want a contract.”

“Contract?!” Now he was insulted.

“That's right, I want it in writing. $100,000, and I'll have the King here for you by Friday night.” Billy told him calmly taking a sip out of his coffee. “Now, can I have my $1,200, please?” he extended his hand.

Lonnie looked at him for a second before crossing his legs. He put his left foot a bit up and took out a wad of cash from his sock. He handed it to Billy with a frown.

“Man, you’re worse than any crook I ever put a bond up for.”

\+ + +

Billy was walking down a wide corridor painted in plain blue and white. It was filled with passing people; some of them wore ill-fitting suits, others wore police uniforms. He pushed a door open and he was standing in a very busy Police Precinct. It was a wide open space filled with desks and busy people. 

“Florence?” Billy tried to call out to someone in the crowd but still tried to keep his voice down - it turned into a very aggressive whisper-yell. The woman he was calling was older, a bit short with big round glasses. “Flo.” He smiled wide and waved when she noticed him.

“Hey, honey. How are you? What are you doin' here?”

“Listen…” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I need a favor.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Of course you do.”

“I need to see the booking slip of a Steve Harrington,” Billy leaned in, lowering his voice. “H-A-R-R-I-N-G-T-O-N,” he spelled it for her.

Florence led him down the file room. There were endless rows of giant shelves that almost touched the ceiling, on them rows of countless folders, color coded and in their places.

“There you go.” She pulled a folder, no different than any other beside it. Flo looked through its content and then she handed one piece of paper to Billy. He looked over carefully from both sides. On it was all the personal information about Steve Harrington printed out. On the back side there was something scribbled down with a pen.

“Yes!” Billy said to himself. 

“What's that?”

Billy put down the paper in Flo’s hands and took out a pen and a tiny notepad from the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

“The number he called right after he was arrested,” he answered while writing it down. “212 area code… Looks like I'm goin' to New York.” Billy smirked.

The bounty hunter was out of the building and he was thinking about his next move. While walking down the stairs his hand moved by itself to grab a cigarette from his pocket. Just before he could, a mean-looking man in a black suit got in his way. He was wearing flashy sunglasses. Billy looked him up and down trying to not respond with anger.

“Are you Billy Hargrove?” the man spoke.

One of Billy’s eyebrows shot up and he looked around. Three other guys in brown suits and sunglasses surrounded him. 

“Excuse me?” Billy said, not sure if he was asking him to say that again or just move so he could go on his way.

“Are you Billy Hargrove?” the man repeated.

“I'm sorry, do I know you?” Billy demanded.

“Jim Hopper, FBI.” He took out his FBI-ID badge and opened it fast before returning it to his pocket. With just one look Billy determined that this guy put a lot of effort into his image - trying to look cool.

“That's a nice badge.” Billy looked at it nonchalantly. “How can I get one of those?” he teased, knowing full well the agent wouldn't like that attitude.

“I want to talk to you, Billy,” Jim Hopper said flatly. 

“Yeah?” Billy was not in the mood. “Why don't you call my secretary?” he added, his temper slipping away.

“Yeah, very funny,” Hopper commented, but there was no humor in his expression. The guys surrounding Billy started to close in, and one of them put a hand on his upper arm. Billy made an attempt to just go around Hopper, but the agent stopped him. “I want to talk to you.” 

Billy was giving it his all to stay patient with these clowns, but that ship sailed when the men in brown suits grabbed both his arms.

“Take your hands off me!” Billy growled, struggling to get free, but they just dragged him away.

Hopper fixed his suit as though nothing had happened.

The men forcefully stuffed Billy in the back seat of a car.

 _“Jeez_ ,” Billy muttered while the guys were getting in after him. One on each of his sides. “Take it easy!” he yelled after they pushed him a little too hard. 

Inside the car was all leather and everything nice - probably expensive. Jim Hopper got in the passenger seat in front and somehow all of them closed their doors in synchronization. 

Had they practiced this? 

Hopper slowly started to turn around but stopped around the middle, looking sideways. 

“You know it's a $10 fine for jaywalking in Los Angeles?” Billy decided to mention.

“Shut up.” Hopper cut him off. “What I want to know is, are you working on anything having to do with Steve Harrington?” He was still not looking at him when he was asking the question. Hadn’t even taken his aviators off.

Billy thought for a second. “Never heard of him.”

Hopper finally turned all the way around.

“Well, I believe you have heard of him.” 

Billy looked left and right, at both men that were smushing him in the middle of the back seat. 

“Let me tell you something, asshole. We've been working on this Martin Brenner thing for about six years. Harrington is my shot.” 

Billy just stared at him in confusion. 

“I'm gonna bring him into federal court and I don't want any third rate rent-a-thug who couldn't cut it as a cop in Chicago bringing him to LA on some bullshit local charge.”

Billy licked his lips and then took out a pair of sunglasses from the inside pocket of his jacket. He put them on very theatrically. Then he looked around the car smiling, happy with himself.

Hopper reached out and took the glasses off his face. Billy looked crushed.

“Do I make myself understood?” the agent asked.

“Can I ask you something?” Billy opened his mouth. He already knew this guy’s weak spot. He seemed like someone who took himself extremely seriously and with people like that the best way to poke at them was to _not take them seriously_. “These sunglasses, they're really nice. Are they government issued or do all you guys go to, like, the same store to get them?” He looked around curiously.

Hooper finally took his own sunglasses off. 

“Do I make myself understood?” he repeated. His tone went from cold to ice.

“Can't you take a joke?” Billy asked as innocently as he could.

Hopper exchanged looks with the other guys. “Get him out of here.”

“No, let's talk some more.” Billy made an attempt not to laugh and also to hold on to the seat of the car while the men were pushing him out.

“Get the fuck out of here.”

At last Billy got out of the car. “If I hear anything, I'll let you know.” Billy told him very enthusiastically... not that the agent asked him to. “Good-bye. Have a nice day,” he said, slapping the guys’ hands off himself. He took a few steps to cool himself off. He fixed up his jacket and turned toward the car. “Can I have my sunglasses back?”

Hopper extended his hand through the window but instead of throwing them _at_ Billy he threw them _up_ in the air. “Here's your sunglasses.”

Billy jumped to catch them. The car took off as he fumbled and dropped them. 

“Thanks!” He screamed sarcastically after the car. After the car was gone of sight Billy reached into his jacket pocket and took out a FBI-ID badge. “Thanks for this, too,” he smiled, opened it and examined it. "Jim Hopper." He read the name on it, then looked back in the direction of the already gone car. “Hopper,” he repeated, trying to familiarize himself with the name. He closed it and started to walk slowly down the street-- then suddenly stopped and dramatically flashed the badge. He laughed to himself, putting it back in his pocket.

\+ + +

Billy was on a plane on his way to New York. However he was not kicking his feet back and taking a nice nap on the way. Instead he was working on something on the folding tray. His eyes were focused down on his hands. He was cutting something with a tiny pair of plastic children's scissors. A kid was sitting on the seat beside him, and his attention was entirely on what the bounty hunter was doing. 

Billy glanced at the kid, stopping for a second with the cutting. The kid met his eyes. Billy didn't say or do anything; he just got back to work. 

On the folding tray the FBI badge was opened and laid out. There was glue and scissors, as well as a line of photos that he had taken in a photo booth. He was cutting one of them out very carefully. It was a picture of him in a cheap black suit, looking very seriously at the camera. When he was satisfied with how he had cut it out he put some glue on the back of it and carefully placed it on top of the picture of agent Jim Hopper. 

The kid looked very suspiciously at him, maybe finally figuring out that what this man was probably doing something wrong. The kid stared at Billy's face, then back at his handiwork. At that moment Billy was pressing down on the picture waiting for the glue to dry and set. When that was done, he lifted up the badge and examined it. The kid was also staring at it still, curiously. 

“How's that?” Billy asked the kid.

“Looks fine to me.’' The kid replied, looking very impressed.

Billy nodded proudly at himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: 23/10/2019  
> I did a little edit on this chapter because it sounded a bit stiff (i was told it sounds like a script rather than a story - not that its bad but it bothered me for a while). I just changed some expressions and phrases, rearranged and shortened some long complicated sentences, etc.  
> There is no change to the storyline.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, this chapter has some strangeness with technology so pls just imagine this actually works irl

At the airport in NYC Billy needed to make a phone call back to the police station but apparently he was going to have to wait because all the payphones were taken and nobody looked in a hurry to free a spot. Instead he decided to use his time productively and go finish something he needed to do - rent a car. 

Billy went to the bureau and he was in luck - there was no line. While he was filling out the needed form he noticed two other guys practically gluing themselves to him. He tried to not pay attention to them, even though they seemed highly interested in him. Billy handed the form to the girl behind the counter, while the two guys surrounded him from both sides. She took the form with a smile and went to enter the information on her computer. At that time Billy was trying very hard not to pay attention to the two guys, but after they openly stared at him he finally sized them both up.

One was tall and wonky looking; he had crazy hair and wore glasses. The other one was a shorter man; he looked a bit tougher, but both of them didn’t have the look of very clever men. Billy was sure that he could take them both in a fight if it came to that.

“You Billy Hargrove?” the shorter man asked. The tall one circled Billy around, studying him in a very obvious manner.

“Who wants to know?” Billy asked, one hand in the pocket of his jacket. His eyes followed the tall guy, wondering what the hell was he doing, before he returned his attention to the man speaking.

“That's a  _ yes _ , Calvin,” mumbled the taller one.

“Phil and I…” the short man called Calvin started, “we'd really like to have a word with you.”

“Yeah? What about?” Billy didn’t look interested at all. He looked more interested in the empty spot of air in front of him, than these two clowns.

“It involves big cash, lots of prizes,” the tall one whose name was apparently Phil said. He leaned in close, almost to whisper in his ear. Billy did not like that and it took almost all his self-control not to flinch away.

“I'll make it short and sweet,” Calvin smiled. He seemed very amused. “The people I work for are really interested in your visit here.” 

“Oh, yeah? Who are the people you work for?” Billy couldn’t stand this mysterious act anymore. He smiled just because he hated being mocked, and that’s how he was starting to feel.

“An old friend of yours from the Chicago days,” Calvin answered, and Billy’s smile went away. “You're here for the King. You think he's in New York, and we think you're right.”

Billy’s face was made of stone.

“That's a nice jacket,” Phil commented, still studying Billy as if he was a mannequin in a store. “What is it? Goatskin?”

“Come on, Phil, please.  _ Will you _ ?” Calvin scolded him gently; apparently he was the one that tried to keep things professional. “Never mind him.” Phil looked a bit disappointed, but he still refused to take his eyes off Billy’s leather jacket. “The way I hear it, you didn't cooperate with my boss a few years back,” Calvin continued.

“Is that the way you heard it?” Billy bit back with a laugh.

“Yeah, but I got a newsflash for you, Billy. He'd pay a hell of a lot more for the King than that putz bail bondsman back in LA.” Calvin smile as someone who knew they had the upper hand.

“Oh yeah? How much more?” Billy asked fainting interest.

“How about a one with six zeros?” the smile was very smug.

Billy’s expression remained the same. The skill to hide his emotions was a very useful one. He wouldn’t gain anything by letting on that this was the same price he got from Lonnie. 

He looked them both up but his eyes stopped on Phil. He could see that the guy thought of himself as tough and intimidating, so he knew exactly what would annoy him most - to interpret his behaviour in the exact opposite way of what he was intending.

“Are you gonna propose?” Billy’s asked in an annoyed tone of voice.

“Propose?” Phil was confused. 

“Propose,” Billy repeated. “'Cause if you're not, quit starin' at me. Okay?”

“Starin' at you?” Phil was shocked. He was appalled just from the very suggestion. His idea of a tough act was far from what came across from his behaviour.

“You're staring at me,” Billy told him firmly.

Phil didn’t say anything. He was left speechless. 

“Phil, back off, will you please? C'mon,” Calvin scolded him again and Phil took a few steps back. 

Just then the lady behind the counter returned. 

“Mr. Hargrove, your car's located in space number 206.” Her smile was polite. She handed him some papers and keys to go with that. “You can catch our shuttle bus just through these doors.” 

“Thank you,” Billy told her, and was grateful for the interruption. Phil on the other hand was trying really hard to use his height to his advantage to look over Billy’s shoulder and read his document.

“Here's my number, Billy.” Calvin handed him a matchbook. “Ask for Calvin Powell. That's me. They'll put you through to wherever I am. And be good to yourself this time. Okay?”

“Tell Martin I said  _ ‘hello’ _ .” Billy told him, obviously not interested in the offer. The goons took a last look at him as he was walking away.

After that, Billy finally got a turn on a payphone. He had a brief conversation with Flo, who had agreed beforehand to look up the address of that telephone number that had led him to New York. After some polite chat he got what he needed and was ready to move on to the second part of his plan.

\+ + +

Back in LA, Jim Hopper was discussing the FBI’s next move with his team. They came to the conclusion that they would place a surveillance van in front of the Byers's Bail Bonds office. Billy Hargrove was bound to contact his employer sooner rather than later.

\+ + +

Billy had parked his rental car on a wide suburban street. It was one of those that you can see in a romantic movie - impressive architecture, nice gardens and flower pots hanging from the windows of the tall beautiful buildings; stone staircases with cast iron railings, blooming green trees and surprising lack of excessive noise.

A taxi passed the bounty hunter's car at a leisurely pace and stopped not far from it. Billy was watching from there, eating a sandwich. A thin woman wearing a long coat, skirt and leather boots, came out of the cab. She was struggling to carry two big bags with groceries, one in each hand. After she crossed the street she walked up the stairs of the house with the booming red flowers on the windows.

Billy took a sip of coffee from a tiny paper cup, most likely from a vending machine rather than a coffee shop. He frowned at the taste and left the unfinished cup on the dashboard of the car. 

The seat next to him was occupied by a big recording machine. The machine was connected with a cable to a standard Walkie-Talkie. He adjusted the frequency before pushing the record button on the answering machine. The tape started rolling and Billy quickly got out of the car. He carried the other Walkie-Talkie with himself.

He crossed the street fast and got to the payphone, where, after consulting his notepad, he dialed a number. The phone rang a few times before someone answered from the other side. 

_ “Hello?” _ it was a woman's voice - the woman that Billy watched just a minute ago.

“Hello, Ms. Wheeler?”

_ “Yes?” _ she answered with a frightened note in her voice that she tried to hide.

“Jim Hopper, Federal Bureau of Investigation. How are you this afternoon?” Billy said. Sounding official didn't come hard to him.

_ “I'm fine.”  _ Ms. Wheeler answered flatly.

“Let me get right to the point if I may, Ms. Wheeler.'' It was phrased like a question but it was not one. He just continued ahead without waiting for her to answer. ''An agent in our Los Angeles office discovered a detail that was somehow overlooked until now. It seems that when a ‘Steve Harrington’ was arrested, you were the first person he called. Is that correct, Ms. Wheeler?” he stated and silence followed from the other side of the line.

The machine in the car was recording the conversation.

“Are you there, Ms. Wheeler?” Billy finally broke the silence.

_ “Yes,” _ she answered flatly, trying to mask the panic in her voice.

“Needless to say, this is a matter of great concern to us…'' Billy continued, very seriously. He could almost even fool himself into believing that he was an official FBI agent. Almost. ''If it would not be too much trouble, we would like you to come down tomorrow morning to 26 Federal Plaza.'' He was looking at his notepad, where earlier he had written down the address. ''Do you think you could do that?”

Obviously, it didn't matter to him if she'd actually go, he just wanted to startle her a bit. Enough to provoke a reaction.

_ “I suppose so,” _ she said with the same lifeless tone.

“About 9:00 a.m.?'' 

There was a big pause before she answers with a simple,  _ “Yes.” _

“Just ask for Agent Jim Hopper.'' Billy tried to stop himself from smiling. ''Thanks for your cooperation. Have a nice day.” 

Instead of slamming the phone back on the hook he stayed on the line for a while. He was very happy with what he heard before finally walking out of the phone booth. He looked through his notebook for a second before sprinting towards his car. After he got in the driver's seat he banged the door closed. He pressed the stop button on the recording machine that was still running. He rewinded the tape a little and cranked up the volume.

Ms. Wheeler was dialing a number. It rang only once before there was an answer from the other side.

_ “Hello?”  _ A woman’s voice.

_ “Carol? It's Nancy.”  _ Ms. Wheeler sounded just the right amount of panicked. _ “The FBI just called. They want to speak to me about Steve.” _

_ “Oh, my God! Nancy...”  _ a male voice.  _ “Nancy, what's going on?” _

_ “Steve, the FBI just called. They know we spoke the night you were arrested.'' _

_ “Hang up the phone, Nancy. Right now.”  _ Steve Harrington told her, and she did it without asking any questions.

Billy stopped the tape and rewind it back. He listened carefully to the sound of the dial tone.

“Aah, sweet music.” He smiled like the cat that got the cream.

\+ + +

It was night time when Billy returned to the fancy neighborhood. He drove slowly and didn't even bother parking somewhere far away. He stopped the car right in front of the building. He got out and locked the door, then walked slowly across the road while finishing up his cigarette. He paused at the staircase and looked around the dark street before climbing up. Before he reached the door he threw away the bud in the garden beside the steps and took out his lockpicks. This time there was no one on the other side with a shotgun, and he was done fast. There was a soft click and he opened the door very slowly and silently. 

The house was dark; a few night lights were lit around - just a suggestion of light. Billy could hear a muffled conversation from somewhere above - upstairs. Steps - someone was moving around. The darkness in the house had to mean that there was nobody home, but that was not true.

Billy walked up the stairs slowly, careful not to make any noise. He was looking around, staying alert. When he reached the top of the staircase, right ahead was a lit room - the door just slightly ajar. Someone walked inside and hid the light for a second, before they moved away.

Billy got closer... and then stopped in his tracks. 

A big dog growled right next to him. It showed up from a dark room just to his left. He stared at it in unpleasant surprise, and then he started to walk very slowly backwards. He didn’t take his eyes off it but the dog refused to leave him alone. Billy was already stepping through a doorway when the dog started to bark. He stepped inside the random room and slammed the door fast in the dog's face. That made the pooch even madder and it started scratching on the door as well as barking.

A man of average height and a lean build opened the door of the room that Billy had just managed to glance at. He carefully looked at the corridor and the dog that was going wild at the door just ahead. He left the room and the woman, Nancy Wheeler, walked slowly after him. 

“What is it, Steve?” she asked, alarmed.

The man was looking at the dog.

“I don't know,” he answered, unsure. He went up to the dog and attempted to calm it down. “Okay. Okay, girl. It's okay…” he repeated soothingly, while he pulled the pooch away so he could open the door.

Behind that door was a bathroom. And in that bathroom, standing inside the bathtub, behind closed glass doors was a Billy Hargrove in a very agitated state, holding up a gun and a badge. The minute Steve opened the door he yelled “Jim Hopper, FBI! You're under arrest!'' 

The dog ran to the tub and started barking and scratching at the glass. Billy Hargrove pointed his gun at the dog as if it was going to get the message and back away. 

''Get this fucking dog out of here! Get the dog out of here, ma'am!” he added, obviously scared but acting tough and angry instead. 

Steve took a step forward to get the dog. 

”Not you. You stay there.” Billy instructed him with an authoritative voice and pointed the gun at him. “Get the dog, ma'am.” he repeated. Nancy was standing frozen.

“Do it, do it.” Steve urged her calmly.

“Get the dog!” Billy repeated, panic getting the better of him.

“Come on, girl. Come on, now.” She stepped forward and started pulling on the dog's collar. She was already dragging the dog away, but Billy was still in the tub. “Good girl. Come on, come on.” Nancy said to the dog as she was getting out of the bathroom.

“Don't move or I'll shoot you right through the glass.” Billy was still pointing the gun at Steve who was staring at him, not thinking anything good. Billy put the badge away, still pointing the gun. He opened the glass door and stepped out. He took out handcuffs from his back pocket and he closed the distance between them in one big step. “Get over here.'' He spat at Steve and grabbed him. 

Even though Steve was not struggling, he obviously didn’t want to do as he was told. 

''Put your hands up against the wall. Your hands up against the wall. Spread your feet.” Billy frisked him fast, gun against the back of his head. “Relax. There won't be a problem. Put your left hand behind your head.” 

Steve was following all the instructions but he still managed to roll his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: 24/10/2019  
> I made some minor changes in this one. Even though it still sounds a little stiff i couldn't see what i can change to make it flow better. this is as good as i can make it at the moment lol  
> There is no change to the storyline.


	3. POSTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long long time ago, when I first started writing this AU i decided to redraw one of the posters for the movie.  
> Here it is!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait!
> 
> I also wanted to say Thank you so much to everybody who is reading this, and a special thank you to all of you who take the time to leave feedback. I really appreciate it! Interacting with you guys is part of what makes posting stories so fun! I hope you enjoy.

It was still night, when Billy got on the highway. Steve Harrington was sitting in the passenger seat next to him silently with his hands cuffed. Billy was frowning at the road ahead, trying to put his thoughts in order.

They passed a road sign for Kennedy Airport

“You're taking me to the airport, aren't you?” Steve slowly turned to Billy with panic rising in his voice. 

Billy lit a cigarette in a gesture showing him that he was not at all interested in what Steve had to say. He glanced at him, to emphasise that, before turning his attention back to the road.

Steve kept his eyes on the bounty hunter. “You don't look like an FBI agent to me.” he stated.

“Yeah? Well you don't look like a King to me.” Billy answered with a mocking barking laugh.

“If you're an FBI agent, why don't you just take me to the FBI office?” Steve pressed on, obviously digging for information.

Billy was getting annoyed. One of the things he hated most was answering nosy questions. He was here on a job and he just wanted to be done with it as fast as possible - no idle chit-chat. He took the cigarette out of his mouth. “If you’re not quiet, this is going to be the worst trip of your life.”

Steve just looked at him. It showed on his face that he wasn’t happy. There a sudden gleam in his eye, as if something finally made sense to him and it looked like it had just dawned on him that his situation may be worse than what he’d initially thought. “You work for Martin Brenner, don't you?” He asked smugly; like he had figured out the big secret.

“I don't work for that piece of shit!” Billy spat out the words. The mere suggestion made him snap so hard, he almost dropped his cigarette. However before he continued he took a few deep breaths. “Your bail bondsman hired me to bring you back to LA, and that's what I'm doing.” He explained trying hard to be… or at least sound calmer.

“I got money, you know.” Steve offered hopefully.

“I'm sure you do.” Billy said with no emotion in his voice.

“I'll give you whatever you want.” 

The bounty hunter didn’t like that suggestion. “Start by shutting up.” Billy told him dryly. “I've known you all of two minutes, and already I don't like you.”

“Gee, that's too bad.” Steve looked at the road with a disappointed frown. “I really like you.”

He said it so casually and sincerely that Billy had to turn and look at him. Was he serious?

When they finally got to the airport, Billy parked out front and dragged Steve out of his seat by his forearm.

“I can't keep you cuffed on a commercial flight.” Billy told him, while getting his bag. “I gotta check my gun with my luggage…” he continued calmly. “…but…” there was a sudden change in his demeanor and his voice turned ice cold “...you fuck with me _once_ and I'm gonna _break your neck._ ” His eyes stabbed at Steve like daggers before he dragged him harder toward the entrance, demonstrating his point - that he was feeling very comfortable using violence.

Just before they walked in the airport Steve opened his mouth again. “I can't fly.” he stated calmly.

“What?” Billy was sure he didn’t hear him right. 

“You heard me. I can't fly.” he repeated with the same composure.

Billy laughed genuinely amused. “You're gonna have to do better than that, _pal._ ”

“No, I don't have to do better than that, because it's the truth. I can't fly.” He said matter of fact. “I suffer from aviophobia.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I can't fly.” Steve explained seriously. He looked very reluctant to walk into the airport. Almost scared. “I also suffer from acrophobia and claustrophobia,” he added.

“Well, I'll tell you what.” Billy started with a smile. “If you don't cooperate, you're gonna suffer from slapophobia.” his tone accepted no objections. After that he just dragged him inside.

Before doing anything else Billy headed for the payphones. He held his leather pouch under his arm while Steve was standing next to the phone in his big tweed coat - his hands still cuffed behind his back. Billy dialed the number and heard the familiar greeting on the other side of the line.

 _''Byer's Bail Bonds.''_ Benny’s voice rang through the receiver. 

''Benny, put Lonnie on the phone.'' Billy told him.

Benny did what he was told and pressed a button that transferred the call to Lonnie’s office. However he still kept the line open on his end.

 _''Billy, what's the progress?''_ Lonnie asked straight away, no beating around the bush.

''I got him.'' Billy declared grabbing at Steve’s upper arm as if afraid that he'd disappear into thin air.

_''You got who?''_

''The King.'' Billy explained calmly as if to a child. ''He's standing right here.''

 _''You got him?!''_ Lonnie screamed. _''Already?!''_

Benny who was snooping on the call couldn’t believe it either. 

''Sure do.'' Billy rubbed it in with a smirk. ''Want to say _hello_?'' He added, then shoved the receiver at Steve without waiting for an answer. ''Say hello to your bail bondsman, Lonnie Byers.''

Steve just stood there, like a statue, not saying anything. So Billy decides he needs to be motivated to speak so he nudged him _not so_ gently.

''Hello!'' Steve blurred out and Billy took the receiver back to his own ear.

''There you go. Steve Harrington, in the flesh.''

In front of the bailbonds office there was a van parked just outside. Two men in stiff suits were hunched over desks surrounded by machinery of all kinds. They were also snooping on the phone call and scribbling down on notepads vigorously.

 _''Billy, I love you!''_ Lonnie exclaimed on the other side of the phone, causing some kind of ruckus. _''What happened? How did this happen? Where'd you find him?!''_

''I found him in New York…'' Billy answered as short as possible. ''We're at the airport.''

 _''Holy Christ!''_ Lonnie screamed in excitement. _''This is wonderful! This is wonderful news!''_

The agents in the van outside looked at each other, sure that this must be a joke.

''I'll be in your office by midnight tonight.'' Billy continued fast. ''And I'm tellin' you right now, Lonnie, I don't want to hear any bullshit, I want the money tonight. So go empty out one of your Swiss bank accounts.''

_''No, Billy, you don't have to worry about nothin'. This is the best money I've ever spent.''_

Benny hurried to appear busy, closing his own phone line before Lonnie could see him snooping.

''Okay. See you in a few hours.'' Billy told him.

 _''All right. I'll see you later. 'Night.''_ Lonnie answered back before closing his own phone line. He took a big happy gulp of air and sank into his chair. 

''So what's that all about?'' Benny pretended that he didn’t know what was going on.

''Hargrove got the King!'' Lonnie answered in a triumphant scream.

''Hargrove got the King?'' Benny stood up.

''He got him! He got the King!'' Lonnie repeated as if he needed to hear it again just because it sounded so good.

''No kiddin'?'' Benny simulated surprise very poorly but Lonnie was too preoccupied patting himself on the back to notice. ''This calls for a celebration. I'll get some donuts.'' Benny said fainting excitement. The perfect excuse.

Benny went outside as fast as he could. He crossed the street and almost ran for the payphone. There he looked around, smashed some coins in and dialed a number.

 _''Yeah, hello.''_ Answered Calvin Powell on the other side of the line.

''Calvin, this is Benny.'' he said trying to hide how nervous he was to make the call. 

_''Benny who?''_

''Benny Geisler.'' He laughed nervously. He got nervous that Calvin couldn't remember him. ''What are you doing?'' He added just to be polite.

 _''Eating dinner. What do you want?''_ Calvin asked obviously not in the mood for politeness, he just wanted to get back to his food.

''Look, I hate to bother you but I thought you'd like to know that Hargrove found the King in New York.'' 

On the other side of the phone Calvin broke into a wide smile. 

''They're flyin' in tonight. They should arrive around midnight.’’ 

Calvin was really happy that he decided to hear this guy out. 

''Don't forget me, babe.'' Benny added as if he had won the jackpot.

 _''Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, kid, yeah.'_ ' Calvin answered faking gratitude.

''Thanks. Good night.'' Benny ended the call on that, smiling from ear to ear.

After the phone call was over Calvin made one of his own. In no time a guy in Vegas was running through a casino floor. He reached another man with white hair sitting on a lavish couch - Martin Brenner. He leaned down to give him the exciting news.

''Looks like your old friend found the accountant.'' The guy announced. ''They'll be flying into LA around midnight.''

Brenner thought for a second before he spoke up. ''Have them met at the airport.'' He gave the order. ''You understand?''

''Done.''

\+ + +

The two guys in the van drove as fast as they could to the FBI office, to deliver the news. The office was all white, composed of endless cubicles and people working. 

Jim Hopper was rushing down the hall in the most dignified manner he could manage, his two helpers from the van following behind. 

''How do you think Hargrove found him so fast?'' One of them dared to ask, actually sounding impressed.

Jim was not happy in the slightest. And when he got into his superiors office the other guy elbowed him in the ribs with an expressions that said sarcastically, ''good job, asshat.''

\+ + +

Billy and Steve sat in a very lavish place. Leather seats, a lot of space, flowers. _First class._

 _''Can I take your coat?''_ The flight attendant leaned in.

''That's fine. Thanks.'' Billy told her off.

 _''May I take your coat?''_ She turned Steve.

''No.'' He answered flatly folding it on his lap, hiding the handcuffs.

The flight attendant smiled and went over to the people behind them to ask the same questions. Left on their own Billy looked around very happily.

''First class is nice.'' He told Steve. ''I could make a habit out of this.'' his smile got wider. It was obvious he was enjoying himself way too much.

 _''Good evening, gentlemen.''_ Another flight attendant approached them from the other side and handed them some menus.

''Good evening to you.'' Billy chirped back. He was in an extremely good mood and even though Steve hadn’t known him for a long time it felt very unlike him.

 _''Would either of you like a drink before we take off?''_ She asked with a pleasant smile.

Steve shook his head murmuring _“no”_ almost to himself. Billy spoke for him. 

''Yes. We would like one of your finest champagnes,'' he said happily, looking through the menu. Steve turned to him as if he had just slapped him in the face.

 _''Certainly.''_ She said with a smile and walked away.

Billy settled in his seat, the smile never leaving his lips. Steve looked at him as if he was insane. 

''Let's see. Look at this.'' Billy showed him the menu. ''Only in America. _What a country._ Huh? Unbelievable.'' he was really talking to himself, because Steve was motionless and silent next to him. ''I think I'm gonna have the steak. How about you?'' Billy continued, not noticing Steves sour mood at all.

''I'm not hungry.” Steve told him with a stony expression, looking straight ahead.

Billy stared at his face trying to figure out why he was in such a bad mood. How could anyone _be_ , when flying first class?

“Well, why don't you then get the lobster, because then I can get a little surf and turf action going.” He suggested.

“I got a problem…” Steve finally abandoned the silent moodiness and turned seriously toward Billy. _“I can't fly.”_ he repeated for what seemed like the 100th time. The was even anger in his voice now. “I don't think you're taking me seriously.”

“I'm takin' you very seriously.” Billy tried to sound serious.

“I can't be on this plane.” Steve explained as calmly as possible.

“You think I haven't heard your story before?” Billy told him very emphatically. Not angry, just stating the facts. “Who do you think you're traveling with, a fucking novice?”

Steve just looked ahead shaking his head. The look in his eyes said – _“you’re really not taking me seriously”._

“That's it. Settle in.” Billy told him calmly. Happy that Steve finally decided to give up. “If you want to get up and talk and be social and mingle with the rest of the passengers, be my guest. You ain't goin' nowhere.”

Steve was just looking ahead, breathing heavy.

“There's a couple of nice-lookin' people here. Better _class_ of people.” He almost laughed at some hidden joke, but he managed to still look calm and serious. “ _Your_ class.” He poked him in the shoulder and he couldn’t hold off the smile anymore. “Probably all embezzlers, too.” He laughed.

Steve just continued to look ahead.

“ _Come fly with me, come fly away..._ ” Billy sang to himself carefree. 

The plane was getting ready to take off, the engines were warming up. 

Steve was in his seat but he couldn’t stop looking nervously around. Billy had already put the plane headphones on his ears. Steve inhaled deeply and stared at his hands for a second... but he couldn’t stay motionless anymore. He seemed to be having a mental fight with himself not to jump up and Billy finally directed his attention towards him, brows furrowed. Steve started to bite on his nails.

“Why don't you just try and _relax?_ ” Billy asked him, but it wasn’t a suggestion.

Steve turned his head, biting his tongue. He wanted to say something but he swallowed it down and just continued to bite his nails. He took a deep breath then stopped. He looked back at Billy in a panic and nudged him gently on the shoulder. Billy took his headphones off reluctantly, obviously annoyed.

“Look, I...” Steve started to say out of breath.

“Just calm down. Just relax and calm down.” Billy told him again.

Steve was really restless now. Breathing fast.

“What are you gettin' so excited about?” Billy asked him, genuinely confused. 

“It's not...” Steve started again but he was too out of breath to finish. He grinded his teeth, clutched at himself and then suddenly stood up. Billy followed him. “No! I can't! I can't.” Steve threw his hands in the air and Billy grabbed his shoulder. Steve was fighting to get out of his grip furiously. “No, no, no! I can't! I can't...”

Billy finally lost his patience and grabbed him by both forearms and pulled him close, right in front of himself.

“Just relax!” he told him firmly, but Steve wasn’t staying calm. Even more he was struggling to breathe. “What did I tell you? Now, don't pull that shit on me...”

“No, no, no! I'm tellin' you…” Steve grabbed at Billy’s jacket. “I can't do it. No, I can't!” 

The other passages were starting to get anxious just looking at him panic. Some of them started to murmur to one another. 

“These things go down!” Steve screamed.

Billy was trying hard not to lose his temper and made an attempt to drag him back to his seat. “All right.” He told him in a calming voice.

“These things go down! It's too big!” Steve was screaming and struggling to get free while Billy was shoving him down in his seat. “It's too big! It can't go up!”

The engines started to wind down. The flight attendant had gone to get the captain. 

“All right, everyone. Just calm down.” The pilot instructed the passengers while he walked toward both of them. “Alright, what's the problem?” he asked with a frown.

Billy was still standing up. Steve was fidgeting anxiously in his seat.

“It's nothing, sir. It's okay.” Billy told the pilot while he whipped his fake FBI badge out. “Jim Hopper, FBI. This man is in my custody. I'm taking him back to Los Angeles. There won't be any more problems.”

“I don't want to fly.” Steve chimed in with a shaky voice but somehow he still managed to sound angry. “I can't fly, really.”

Billy gave him a look that conveyed just how much of a betrayal that statement was.

“You can't take a prisoner aboard an airplane if he doesn't want to fly. You should know that.” The pilot huffed angrily at Billy.

“I do. I'm sorry. I thought he was bluffing.” Billy apologized. “I thought he was bluffing.” He repeated in a defeated voice. 

“I suggest you find some other mode of transportation.” The pilot told him sternly.

+

Billy was dragging Steve by the arm through the train station. That however couldn’t spoil Steve’s mood - he was grinning from ear to ear. Billy glanced at him while he was trying to finish a cigarette. Smoking calmed him down… or at least that's what he wanted to believe. Steve’s attitude however was pissing him off and no amount of cigarettes were going to fix that.

“What the fuck are you smilin' about?” he growled at him.

“I love to travel by train.” Steve stated happily.

“Oh yeah? What do you think this is, a class trip?” 

Steve tried to turn his head and look him in the eye but he was being dragged so he couldn’t physically muster it. 

“Are you always this angry?”

Billy glanced at him, annoyance bubbling behind his eyes. “Hey, _look_ , right now I'm in a great fucking mood. You wait when I'm cooped up on that thing for a while and you're not gonna be smilin'. You're gonna be runnin' for that fucking jail cell.”

“Still gonna make your schedule?” Steve asked curious. 

They were walking next to the train and Billy pushed Steve forward so he would walk faster.

“I'll make it, 14 hours to spare.” He answered while they were boarding.

They made their way to the cabin and Steve was the first one to peak inside it.

“Oh, nice, nice. It's a double.” He looked extremely pleased. “It's a double. There'll be a lot of room…”

“Glad you like it.” Billy interrupted him. The tickets were between his teeth when he approached Steve. He grabbed him and shoved his face first against the wall. Steve stood frozen in place, too scared to imagine what would Billy do to him. He had made it pretty clear there were many options… But instead there was a clicking sound and the cuffs slipped off his wrists. 

“Thanks!” Steve’s pounding heart started to calm down. He was happily surprised. For a second he wasn’t sure what to expect. “They're starting to cut into my wrists. Thank you.” Steve was smiling wide. “It just gets the skin after a while.”

Billy grabbed him by the shoulders and gently led him forward - toward the toilet. “Get in there.” he instructed him.

“What do you want?" Steve was confused. "What?” 

Without a word Billy cuffed him to the sink. 

“Oh, come on! Come on.“ Steve was laughing. He was sure this was some kind of joke but Billy was expressionless while he walked away. “Why... would you do that?” Steve's smile wavered. 

Billy took the tickets out of his mouth before he finally spoke. 

“You enjoy yourself. This is my room, and that's your room.” He closed the door of the bathroom leaving him inside. “Good night!”

+++

Agent Jim Hopper and a couple of guys in suits were making their way through the airport in Los Angeles to the plane where Billy and Steve had been a couple of hours ago. The passengers were already out so the plane was empty when they walked in. The agents started to look around the first class section. At that moment the captain and co-captain got out of the cockpit.

“Hey, can I help you guys?” the pilot asked.

“Special Agent Hopper, FBI.”

“Hopper?“ The pilot laughed. “Are all you guys named Hopper?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jim was starting to get angry.

“You're here to pick up a prisoner, right?” asked the pilot.

“How did you know that?”

“He was afraid to fly, so he got off the plane.” The pilot answered matter of fact. “He left with an Agent Hopper.”

Hopper just stared in angry disbelief.

“Sir, that must mean that Hargrove has your identification.” Said the agent right behind his back.

Hopper turned slowly toward him with a very sour expression.

\+ + +

Calvin Powell was sitting in a lavish bar, a whole bottle of vodka next to an already empty glass. He was frowning, his eyes were staring into the distance. The place was relatively empty and Phil was fooling around behind the bar. 

The phone rang.

“Yeah?” Phill picked it up.

 _“Is this Moron Number 1?”_ it was Brenner on the other side of the line. _“Put Moron Number 2 on the phone.”_

“Yeah, Marti. He's... uh, right here. Hold on.” He put the phone in front of Calvin who was chugging a now full glass of vodka. Phill poked him on the shoulder. “He's pissed.” he warned him.

Calvin left his glass on the bar before he took the receiver off Phill's hands.

“Yeah?” he answered in a defeated tone of voice.

_“I thought you told me this guy was gonna be on the plane.”_

“That's the information we got.”

 _"That's the information we got."_ Brenner repeated his words mockingly before starting to talk in a cold tone. _“I'm gonna tell you something, I want this guy taken out, and I want him taken out fast. You and that other dummy better start getting more personally involved in your work or I'm gonna stab you through the heart with a fucking pencil, do you understand me?”_

“You got it, Martin.” Calvin agreed fast and then the conversation ended. Calvin stared at the receiver listening to the empty tone coming from it before slamming it back into its place.

Phil looked very worried. 

“Calvin… He ain't mad at me, is he?” he finally asked.


End file.
